Flame

Pushing words awaylest they eat my sleepbecome the only part of medevour those golden hourswhich amount to the rest of meyes, away with dreams and all that seemspossessed to make an end to me

Anesthesia is an artto which I might at once lay claima shallow grave dividedI might just lay betweensome token awareness consciousnesswhich came first coffee or creamblackout describes the best held dreams

I lit a candle to threaten the starsbut nobody’s laughing in this wayward placewould someone put out the lightstop this ringing...